Devil's Spawn
by Tsume Yuki
Summary: Harry had thought that the war, that Voldemort, was all behind her now. That is, until the goblins inform her of a young orphan boy in London, one that shares her blood and has a terrifying affinity for snakes. Harry was less then impressed to find herself lumped with Voldemort's spawn. Especially as the man doesn't seem as defeated as she once thought. Fem!Harry, Eventual LV/HP
1. Prologue

**The Devil's Spawn**

**Prologue**

Harriet Jamie Potter grimaced, letting out a pained groan as she did so. It'd been two years since the demise of Voldemort, a year since his body had laid flat out on the floor, no longer that of an immortal god, but that of a broken man, defeated at his own game. Life had gone on. All had been well.

Up until now that was.

.

Three days after the war, Harry had gone to Gringotts, presented herself before the goblins and made her best grovelling apology. She'd not wanted to rob them, but there had been no other way to get the Horcrux, it wasn't like Bellatrix would have handed it over if she'd just asked nicely. Surprisingly enough, the director of Gringotts had pulled her aside and in hushed tones, explained a not very well known secret about the goblin bank.

Apparently, the little verse outside was not so much of a warning as it had been a challenge. The goblins were a warrior race, they prided themselves on being able to protect anything, and the inscription outside was a promise and boast, that they could not be beaten when it came to looking after your gold. The fact that she had managed to do so had infuriated them, but also invoked a grudging respect.

So much so that she'd ended up with a job offer, to become the first Goblin-Wizard consultant.

Even now, two years later, they were still working out the finer details of just what it is that she actually did on the job. She was called in for whatever task they felt required her. How to update the safety of their vaults; they'd ask her to explain how she'd go about stealing from them again. They showed her defences, she worked out how to get around them, and then they'd go away and make improvements, before once again repeating the process. Anything they felt required her attention, became her problem.

But Harry didn't care.

She'd been grateful for the job, probably far more than she should have been. Because everyone had expected her to go into the Law Enforcement business, and she'd not wanted that at all. She'd had enough of that life, chasing and being chased. She wanted nothing more than to be normal, to have a somewhat normal job, a somewhat stable life as opposed to what she'd suffered through these past few years. Ron had been a bit put out, but Hermione had encouraged her with, rambling on about Goblin-Wizard relations and how Harry was taking the first step in what would hopefully be a journey to a better future.

So yes, Harry received a lot of benefits for being the only wizard goblins would almost happily associate with.

One of those benefits was brought to her attention two years into her employment. With recent legislation that'd gone through the Wizengamot, changes had been made. Now, any magical child that registered upon the Ministry's radar that were located in an orphanage were noted down. Agents of the Ministry would then get a hold of a blood sample, which would then be passed off to the goblins for blood tests, just to see if there were any living magical relatives. Harry had been the mastermind behind this proposal, even if it was Neville's grandmother who'd pushed it through the governing body.

Regardless of the source, it'd been accepted, and Harry had been happy to note that there was less chance of another Voldemort rising now. From there, the goblins would carefully, and most importantly, quietly, inform the nearest relative of the orphan, who would then be collected and brought back to their family. It'd only happened twice so far, but that was two orphans who now had family, so Harry considered it all a success. She'd never once thought that the law would ever effect her in any way shape or form.

Which was why she was understandably confused when upon this day, the goblins pulled her aside into a small office for a little talk.

.

"Excuse me?"

Having just turned twenty years old, Harry had understandably been considering having a child for a very short amount of time. She knew that first of all, she wanted a stable life and a stable relationship with a man she loved very much before any child came along. She'd promised herself long ago that she'd only ever have a child if she knew that said child would receive the childhood she'd never had. A loving one that was.

So, with this in mind, then the information she'd just been given could not, in any way, be true.

Spikefang, the goblin who'd been the one to pull her aside for a few moments, grimaced slightly at her clear distress, pushing the papers towards her across the table, drumming the fingers of his other hand atop the solid oak of his desk.

"There is no mistake Miss Potter. The law requires us to contact the nearest, most suitable blood relative. That would be you." That wasn't the part Harry was confused with. What she was confused with was how close the relation was.

She did not have a child. Could not. She'd never even slept with anyone!

And yet, the paper said she was closest blood relative, that she made up fifty percent of this kid's DNA.

"Spikefang," Harry's voice came out somewhat strangled, like Crookshanks had snuck down and decided to rest within her voice-box, "are there any other ways to produce a kid...Outside of the usual?"

"You mean aside from mating," the goblin grumbled, eyes narrowed upon her form like she was asking one of the most stupid questions he'd ever heard before. As if she was a beggar that'd come to set up a bank account.

"Dark magic, right?" Harry asked, hands clenching, crumpling the papers she'd been given. She hoped they were copies, and not the original documents. Otherwise her employers might be a bit unhappy with her.

Again.

"You do not know of the blood rituals? Pure-blood families who find themselves infertile may preform rituals with the blood of both would be parents to create an offspring. Your Ministry does not even recognise it as dark magic."

Fingers tightening on their paper captives, Harry forced herself to breath, to draw air in and let air escape, otherwise she'd be ending up on the floor. Someone had taken her blood. Someone had taken her blood and made themselves a child. And then they'd dumped that child at the orphanage like they were nothing important, like they were nothing more than an experiment gone wrong and no longer worthy of their time. Maybe even left on a doorstep, the same way she had been.

However, that meant she'd know who to track down now.

"The father?" Harry hissed between clenched teeth, even though she already knew the goblins wouldn't tell her. Not unless she went through the Ministry to sue for line-theft and they were ordered to hand over confidential files. And Harry knew that they would be furious to do so, goblin friend or not. And she certainly didn't want the Ministry to know about this. Not yet and possibly not ever. But she had to go get this kid, to see it with her own eyes to really believe what she'd been told.

"Confidential," the goblin frowned, clicking his tongue and clearly not happy that he couldn't tell her either. Harry nodded, rising somewhat stiffly before reaching for her wand.

"I don't think I'll be in for work tomorrow."

Spikefang just gave a grunt, returning to his paperwork as Harry apperated out, another benefit of being a goblin friend.

.

Muse's House did not sound like an orphanage. Nor did it much look like one to Harry, but then again she'd only ever seen Wool's, which would be a poor example now that they were in the twenty-first century. A lot could change in seventy years, and this looked like it was going to be one of those things. It was a bright enough building, with lots of play things for the children to partake in while out in the yard. Most were running around right now, though curious eyes often turned to Harry and her guide.

Heracles.

That was the name of the little boy who'd recently preformed a bit of magic and registered in the Ministry. Heracles was the little boy who'd been created with her blood through what Harry had no doubt was some dark magic. The only reason it was probably still legal was so pure-blood families could have an heir if they ever found themselves infertile.

It didn't surprise her as much as it should have done.

She'd introduced herself as Harriet Evans at the front desk, informing them that her sister had recently died and left in her will the location of her child. Harry was planning on hitting her guide, one Ashley Ward, with a memory charm the second she saw this boy. Because she couldn't leave him here. The goblins had promised to sort out the rest.

What was worrying was that the woman had taken one look at her, gasped, and then whispered under her breath that she 'had his eyes'.

"He's a lovely little boy. Very intelligent, a bit quiet, but always polite. We'll be sad to see him go."

Harry nodded, feeling terror coil inside her stomach. She didn't know the first thing about looking after a kid, but she had to try. This boy, Heracles, wound not go through the childhood she had. No way no how.

That didn't mean that she knew what to think though.

"Heracles?"

Harry perked up.

She didn't know what to feel with this kid, she'd only just recently considered the idea, and now she was presented with one already born and four years old. She'd missed four years of this little boy's life, her little boy. But she wouldn't be missing any more. She was only terrified that she wouldn't love him on sight. Like a parent was suppose to.

As soon as a small figure appeared from the sandbox, Harry whipped out her wand, thankful that they were somewhat secluded, and hit Ashley with a memory charm. She felt somewhat bad for it, but shrugged it off. There were things more important than this young woman at the moment.

Like this child made from her blood that was slowly approach.

The summer sun was hot on the back of Harry's neck as she knelt down on the grass, ignoring Ashley who began walking off, mumbling over how she couldn't quite remember what she was doing.

"Are you Heracles?" Harry asked quietly, watching in fascination as the little boy nodded, lifting his head from where he'd been hiding behind dark hair. Dark hair with the slightest of reddish tints to it. The colour of her mother's hair but so much darker it was closer to black. But the second the shoulder length hair was out of his face, Harry's smile froze upon her lips.

Those were her eyes. The same emerald green she saw in the mirror every day looking back at her.

But they were on Tom Riddle's face.

* * *

><p><strong>I wrote this a while ago, this prologue at least, and then got a bit stuck on how to actually start chapter one, and didn't want to publish it until I knew I'd be getting somewhere with it. But I've got 700 words for the first chapter wrote now, so this should be fun. <strong>

**I really, really like this idea, and of course Voldemort and Harry aren't going to fall into one another's arms in an instant. That'd be far too easy. No, coming up are moral dilemas and lots of panicking. Mainly Harry panicking. **

**Thoughts? Feelings? Little close to the bone or acceptable?**

**Tsume  
>xxx<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**The Devil's Spawn**

**Chapter 1**

One arm wrapped around a pair of childish legs, another carefully pressing the youngster's into her chest, Harry tapped her boot twice against the freshly painted door of Grimmauld Place.

It'd been four hours since she'd met Heracles, four hours since she'd gone through the muggle childcare system to claim her baby boy off of them, to take him far, far away from the orphanage that had housed him for far too long. He'd fallen asleep in her arms, one hand tangled up in her long black hair and the other resting upon his chin, thumb jammed once again back in his mouth. Looking down at the sleeping bundle that was curled up against her torso, Harry felt a small smile lick at the corners of her lips.

Oh, don't get her wrong. His face was haunting, like looking back into a past she'd much rather care to leave far behind her, to forget about completely.

But he was also a child, an innocent child that shared her blood. He knew nothing of their world, nothing of her or of the man who'd contributed to fifty percent of his DNA. She didn't like to think on that too much but hey ho. She'd get on with life, as she always had done with everything thrown her way. Only this time, she wouldn't be so alone as she made her way forwards, because now she had a little boy toddling after her.

The front door swung open, Kreacher staring at the small bundle in her arms with wide eyes.

"Mistress Harry, welcome home. Is Kreacher making food for guest too?"

"Some sandwiches maybe?" Shuffling into the hallway after the old house-elf, Harry adjusted her grip on the little boy in her arms, shivering slightly when the boy's breath ghosted across the side of her neck.

Having being left Grimmauld Place by her godfather, Harry had never been able to summon up the will to get rid of anything, be it the house or any object that had nestled within its walls.

Which proved difficult when every dark object that'd once been removed from the house by the Order of the Phoenix mysteriously reappeared over the summer. It wasn't until Kreacher had stopped laughing that Harry had gotten an explanation, that the Black wards hit everything that rested within the house with a retrieval charm, and that anything that left the house without it's removal would return after half a decade outside of the grounds.

Harry had been somewhat torn, because people had bought these charmed artefacts and books, but then again, should she really be feeling sorry for the kinds of people who would buy these books? The answer, she'd come to realize after much thought, was a resounding no. So instead she'd just gotten Kreacher to pack up everything that was cursed and stash it away to deal with later.

A good decision, considering she would now have a child running around.

"What has Mistress brought home?"

Clutching the boy every so slightly tighter to her chest, Harry ran one hand up the length of Heracles' back, making her way into the redecorated living room.

They'd given Grimmauld Place a bit of a make over, and while she'd Kreacher to keep the vast majority of the Black heritage, she'd had him brighten up the place, the two of them installing windows and lights, painting the walls lighter shades and reapplying brighter wallpaper. The living room was done in rich greens and neutral light browns, probably the most welcoming room in the house.

"Kreacher, this is Heracles... Heracles Sirius Potter." Though she'd always wanted to name her first-born after her father, she was not giving the boy the same initials that she had, otherwise they'd be getting all of there things mixed up constantly. Sirius she had known, and while he hadn't been perfect, he had been her godfather. He had loved her. So it was him she honoured. She only prayed that little Heracles wouldn't grow up to as troublesome as his namesake.

"Mistress?" Kreacher was gripping both of his ears now, twisting the ends back and forth as he looked at the small figure that Harry had set on the comfier sofa.

Running a hand through her hair, Harry gave a little laugh shaking her head to and fro. She was going to have to not only explain this madness to Kreacher, but to everyone of her friends she knew. Hell, she'd probably have to tell a reporter, because otherwise they'd run wild with theories. Which led to a problem.

She could never let the identity of Heracles' father be known.

They'd no doubt come after boy, and the world would burn before she allowed that to happen.

However, she'd worry about that later and focus on telling Kreacher what had happened, from the goblins, to the orphanage, to meeting her unknown son.

* * *

><p><em>He was a beautiful boy, Harry reflected, knelt in the grass still and staring in complete awe, horrified awe, at the little wizard before her. <em>

_Of course, only that sorry excuse of a man would dare to do something like this. Not even the Death Eater's would ever stoop so low. But even he- she'd never have expected him to drop low enough to leave another wizard with muggles. Not when he'd suffered through it himself. Knew how bad it could get. _

_The boy before her contradicted that thought. He was the spitting image of who she now knew for certain to be his father, only with her eyes and mahogany coloured hair that just had to come from her. She felt furious, beyond fury, at the fact Voldemort had dared to step so far, but all that coursed through her veins was tiny in comparison to the wonderment at the little life before her. _

_Heracles was a gorgeous little boy, with his big green eyes and wavy, dark copper hair. He had Tom's face, but that could almost be ignored in favour of the cheeks rounded with childish innocence and the eyebrows that were without doubt hers. She wanted to be angry, and no doubt she would be at a later date. She would curse Voldemort to the ends of the earth for daring to create a child using her blood and dark magic. _

_But she would never take that out on the little boy before her. She would never become someone who would blame the child for their parent's mistakes. _

_She was no Petunia. _

"_Hi there," Harry whispered, emotions running raw within her body and leaving her arms trembling slightly. Heracles was looking back at her, one hand clutching at a small soft toy he'd clearly been tugging around for a while, sand clumped up between his small fingers. _

"_Hello," the boy replied, still looking curious and confused at the same time, eyes focused completely upon her, "you have my eyes." _

_Harry could feel hysterical laughter bubble up inside her chest for a second, but she pushed it down, trying to focus. It would probably scare the kid, her son, away. _

"_I think you mean that I gave you your eyes," Harry corrected gently, watching as Heracles stuck the thumb of his free hand into his mouth, sucking on the digit and looking so cute it took all she had not to coo at the sight. She'd never had that reaction when she'd gone to see Teddy and he'd done something especially cute. Maybe it was different when it was your own child? _

"_Who are you?" _

_Harry clenched her fingers around her knees, forcing herself to focus. _

"_I'm your mother Heracles. I promise, I didn't know about you until now, I came as soon as I did." _

"_Okay." _

_Startled at the sudden acceptance, Harry stared at the child before realizing he was looking expectingly at her. He trusted her, just like that. He'd noticed the shared the same eyes, and accepted her instantly. _

_Something cold twisted in her stomach, because had Voldemort survived, had he shown up here wearing a glamour, then her precious little boy would have been just as quick to trust him. _

_She knew that. _

_She'd been there, had walked around Little Whinging picking out the strangers who had similar features to her own. Desperately wishing that they'd be the one to turn up, to save her from the cupboard. How easily Voldemort could have corrupted her little boy. _

_She didn't know why the dead Dark Lord had left him here, but she could only thank Merlin he had. _

_"Would you like to come home with me?" Heracles' lips parted slightly, the same eyes she saw in the mirror everyday blowing wide before he hastily nodded his head. _

_Harry almost cried with relief._

* * *

><p>Kreacher stared back at her for a second before turning to look at Heracles, his face twisting this way and that, from disgust to something between adoration and concern. Of course, the house elf had been very much involved in the raising of Sirius and Regulus, Harry knew that. And she'd won the elf's respect, but would that extend to her son, the child of two half-bloods? She hoped so. She wouldn't order Kreacher to like Heracles, but it would make life infinitely easier, that's for sure.<p>

But, that was a problem for later. Right now, she had some more important matters to attend to.

"Kreacher, I want the floo locked down for the next forty eight hours. I want the wards powered up as high as we can get them. No one it getting in this house right now. I-I need some time on my own..." Harry trailed off, looking at the sleeping boy on her sofa before she sat down on the thick fur rug Kreacher had retrieved from a Black camping lodge.

The house elf must have nodded because from the corner of her eye he faded out of existence, ready to carry out her orders down to the letter. On cue, the plate of sandwiches requested earlier sprang into existence, settling on the solid wooden top of the coffee table.

Harry snatched up one of the little slices, nibbling from the crust, though her eyes never left Heracles.

She had a son.

An adorable baby boy that was already four years old. That old urge for family, for real family that the Weasleys had never really been able to fill, no matter how hard they tried, roared back into existence with all the abruptness of apperation. The little hole in her chest that'd been demanding to be filled was suddenly a little less wide, suddenly a little less noticeable.

Tears welled up in her eyes and Harry shuffled a bit closer, taking in Heracles' sleeping form.

He was so beautiful. His hair was near black, with only the slightest tint of red to it's exceedingly dark waves. It was a little long, reaching his shoulders as it did, but the length reminded her of Sirius. His skin was pale, near enough her own shade, free of blemishes and scars. So he'd not suffered any noticeable injuries then, that was good. Orphanages were much better now than in the 1930's, but they were still orphanages. His eyelashes were thick, hiding the identical green irises she knew rested beneath. He had the shape of her eyebrows, but his cheekbones weren't from her, nor the shape of his nose and lips. Though they were thinner than the one's she remembered from her second year, the ones that had whispered words of power and legacies.

She hoped so.

Even with the bits that came from Voldemort, he was perfect. Heracles had taken only the good bits, and she hoped that remained true for his personality too.

What was she suppose to say when he woke up? What did she want him to call her? Would he be okay calling her mother? Mum?

Hell, would she be okay being called that?

She was only twenty years old, could she handle a four year old calling her that?

She only needed to take another look at his face to know the answer. It would both bother and thrill her to hear that. She didn't know his first word, she didn't know what food he liked, what his favourite colour was. She knew nothing but the few pieces she'd been able to put together upon their meeting.

She wanted to know everything.

"Mistress? The floo is blocked and the wards up, should Kreacher prepare a room for Little Master?"

Head snapping up to look at her house elf, Harry let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding.

"Yes please Kreacher, that'd be great."

The house elf snapped away with a click of his fingers and Harry turned back to look at Heracles.

Only to startle when she noticed he was awake. Wide green eyes met hers and Harry felt her face flush slightly. Okay, so she'd been caught watching him sleep, but really, could she be blamed for it? No matter how he'd come about, he was a little miracle.

"Good afternoon," Harry grinned, watching as Heracles blinked in bewilderment at her, looking honestly confused. Over what, she didn't know, but she hoped she wasn't the source.

"Good afternoon," he repeated slowly, eyes trailing around the room, taking in everything around him. There was probably a lot of interesting things present, Harry realized. There were a great many wizarding things just thrown across the room, which would obviously be a point of interest for a child raised by muggles.

"Heracles-"

His attention snapped to her instantly and Harry forced herself not to grin, instead carefully pulling her Holly wand from her sleeve and offering it up for the boy to inspect.

"-Have you ever had anything strange happen around you before?"

The boy's eyes went wide again and he looked this way and that, as if expecting someone to be eavesdropping on their conversation. Then, he leaned forwards, as if about the share the secret to eternal youth. Harry couldn't quite keep the grin off of her face as he did so.

"I made the cookie jar float," he whispered, looking around the room again. Probably for Kreacher, she realized, seeing as he might have woken up to the house elf's voice.

"You mean like this?" Harry asked, taking her wand back from the boy and silently summoning 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Heracles let out a little gasp as Harry caught the book in her free hand, offering it up to the boy with a grin. She knew now how Hagrid had felt, introducing her to the world of magic. It was sharing the greatest secret in the world, a special one for only them to talk about.

"How?" Heracles was still running his hands over the book, one finger tracing the words on the front and slowly sounding them out. So he could already read then? That was good, she would have had no idea where to start with that, but now she could just build on what he already knew. He was probably a year ahead of her in that regard at least.

"Magic," answering with a shrug, Harry charmed the coffee table into a hound and back, watching as Heracles gave a breathless gasp, wonder writing across his face.

"I think I can tell you a little about it."

"Only a little?" Leaning forwards, but this time in excitement, eyes alight with joy, Heracles smiled at her.

And he looked so beautiful that for that single moment Harry forgot the vast majority of her worries and began explaining all about the world he came from and belonged in.

It didn't matter what they'd face in the future, Harry couldn't picture herself anywhere other than right here during that instant.

* * *

><p><strong>Thought I'd give you all the first chapter, the next one should be longer at the very least, once I get around to writing it.<strong>

**Coming up next chapter;**

_Heracles starts asking the awkward questions, the goblins get a little uncomfortable and George Weasley proves surprisingly insightful. _

**.**

**For those interested, Heracles was born 19th March 1996, and yes, his middle name shall be Sirius, because I don't want him having the same initials as Harry.**

**Answers;**

**- When did Tom get the blood sample?  
>Sorry, I can't answer that without ruining some things, so, wait around for Voldemort to show up and start bragging?<strong>

**- Is Heracles Harry's son made from blood or from the future?  
>He's been made from her blood and some of Voldemort's through a ritual, so no future.<strong>

**- How does Harry feel about Voldemort being alive?  
>She doesn't know he is yet. And we'll be covering how she feels when he actually shows up.<strong>

**- Voldemort isn't gone?  
>No, not really. So far, everything's been the same as the books aside from what Voldemort's done to survive-obviously- and the Epilogue is irrelevant. <strong>

**Questions?**

**Tsume  
>xxx<strong>


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